\--==Official Submission==-- FROM: First Sergeant Alexander Rahl RE: The Lady''s Hand: Young Private Salmnow was curled in the corner in the back of his darkened cell, facing the back wall and sobbing violently. Two days worth of food sat untouched just inside the bars, already rotting amidst the damp and filth that surrounded it. He appeared to be in well enough physical shape, though he seemed extremely weak. Colonel Thames had apparently put the fear of the General in those who came in contact with Salmnow, for he was indeed in much better shape than anyone else would have been after two nights in Tablenhelm's prisons. scritch, scritch, scritch Alexander looked away from his observations to try and pinpoint where the sound was coming from, but he couldn't seem to isolate it. Most likely rats in the walls, he concluded. Salmnow was muttering something to himself between his sobs. Probably some quiet admonition against the nightmare that surrounded him. He would have to eat soon, or the Priest would most likely kill the lad in spite of himself during the daily sessions. Alexander knew that he really shouldn't care about this particular failure; in fact, he wasn't sure why he hadn't had the boy killed outright when he had failed in his silence. scritch, scritch, scritch “...we believe the Priest's...medicines...don't work on him like the others...” “...raised as a blacksmith, son of a tailor woman and a soldier...” scritch, scritch, scritch He knew why he had spared the boy. He was just unwilling to accept it. The Lady's Hand realized that the scratching was not coming from the walls, but from Salmnow, who was using a chunk of stone to carve something into the wall. Alexander looked at the boy's cell at great length, noticing for the first time where exactly in the cellblock that he was. A wash of revulsion and horror spread through his body, permeating his very soul, made worse with each tiny scratch against the wall. Finally, when Salmnow had finished his work, Alexander stepped out from his vantage point, startling a nearby guard so absolutely that the man had his sword half-bared before realizing he was about to prosecute his General. “Guard...” Alexander said, as soon as the man had composed himself, “this man, Salmnow is imprisoned by mistake.” “Sir?” responded the man incredulously, definitely not the brightest of the Lady's stock. “Imprisoned by mistake, Corporal.” “Um, er...yes sir. Er.” The man looked between Alexander and the cell door, trying to comprehend what he was supposed to do now. “The door, Corporal.” “Ah, yes sir!” said the man, now imbued with purpose. He quickly unlocked the door, and drug Salmnow to his feet and half-carried the man out of the cell and presented him to his General. A dirty, weak-kneed Salmnow looked up into the General's eyes, trying to determine whether he was being forgiven or executed. Alexander held his gaze for a long moment then turned to the guard. “There was a mistake, this man's breeding prevented him from completing his task. It was an error on the late Colonel Tarek's part. Take laborer Salmnow here to the forges beneath the tower. There he will continue the tasks that he was bred to do. I'm sure foreman Ix will be glad to have such a fine workman as his apprentice.” “Of course sir,” responded the guard, turning to Salmnow as he escorted him to the stairs, “We're real sorry about the mix-up lad. On behalf of the General I'd like to...” the man's voice was cut off as the door to the cellblock clanged shut. Alexander entered the cell slowly, gingerly, and walked to the back wall. Salmnow's carving stood out sharply against the grimy stone. I AM NOT A KILLER. I AM NOT EVIL. THEY LIE. I AM NOT A KILLER. I AM NOT AN EVIL MAN. THEY WILL NOT MAKE ME BELIEVE IT! With an unwanted tear welling up in his eye, he leaned down and wiped two decades of grime and filth away from the wall below Salmnow's admonition. I WILL NOT SUCCUMB! -SILENT And below it: NOR WILL I! -ALEXANDER The Lady's Hand fell to his knees and held his hand to the words that he had scrawled fifteen years previously. He has promised himself, and somehow promised Silent, that he would not fail. And he had done exactly the opposite. Silent, the lone Terath-Ambul who was immune to the mind - altering drugs of the Priests. Silent, who had slain his entire unit because he believed in a man he had never met. Silent, who had saved not only his life, but also that of Alexander's father time and time again. Silent did not succumb. Silent was the only man since the dawn of time who had truly defeated the Lady. “And now I share her bed,” whispered Alexander gravely. “In this room I truly died. I'm so sorry, old friend. I've failed you.” He stood slowly and walked stiffly out of the cell; and in all of his life, until the day he died as an old, war-torn man, Alexander Rahl never set foot inside that place again.